Sweet & Sour Grapes
by Basmathgirl
Summary: A visit to a new planet brings up an old clichéd problem that can be dealt with in only the one way. Apparently. With consequences.
1. The Grapes

**Disclaimer:** these characters merely belong in my dreams and not my bank balance.  
 **A/N:** written for **hc_bingo** round 9, partly because I fancied having another go at this cliché  
 **A/N2:** I think I've managed to edit out all the extremely naughty bits; but should you want to read them, you'll find this story uncut on AO3.

* * *

 **Sweet & Sour Grapes**

.

On a new-ish planet, far far away…

The Doctor was in full verbal flow as they walked through the outskirts of a town on the planet called Idanej. He led the way around a large building forming a corner and found themselves in the crowded main square. "Oh!" he exclaimed as he searched the vicinity to work out why so many people were assembled together. "This looks like their version of a bacchanalian festival."

Donna desperately tried to remember what the word 'bacchanalian' meant. It was to do with grapes, wasn't it? "What, like in a harvest festival?" she asked.

"Yes," he allowed, leaning closer so that she could hear him over the throng, "but more of a fertility celebration and less thankfulness."

She crunched her face up to show it meant the same to her as far as she was concerned.

"Careful, Donna!" he warned as someone stumbled into her, nearly knocking her sideways.

At that point, some local bloke made a grab for her and sprayed a cloudy substance from a small bottle right into her face. Caught totally off guard, the Doctor didn't notice the woman who attempted to do the same to him until he was clutching Donna possessively to keep her out of harm's way. Both them were facially covered in a purple mist.

Now angry, the Doctor gritted out, "I think we ought to get back to the TARDIS right away."

"What have they sprayed us with?" Donna managed to get out through a coughing fit.

"Some sort of hormonal enhancer, by the taste of it," he replied.

"Trust you to lick it," she quietly grumbled. "Which way is home? And is this stuff likely to have any effects on us?"

"No idea until we can get back home, and I can run some tests. Come on." He then yelped in pain, "Ow!"

She instantly let go of his hand. "Did I hurt you?"

"No no no, don't let go," he begged. "Keep with me. It's just a twinge."

"Yeah, sure," she disparaged. "A twinge doesn't make you go pale or sound like that."

Wincing again as he retook her hand, he determined, "I can cope. I'm more worried about you."

"Me?! Why are you worried about me?"

 _Because you are suddenly ovulating_ , he didn't reveal. Instead, he answered, "Because you're my mate. I always worry about you."

"Daft Martian," she huffed fondly.

*~ /_\ ~*

The run back to the TARDIS hadn't been too eventful once they'd broke free of the crowd. They had quickly got back home, still needing to wash the purple substance off. At this point in time the Doctor was sure the traces of foreign elements were harmless to their skin, but the short-term effects had yet to manifest completely.

"Are you still in pain? You've still got a bit of…" Donna waved a hand across her face to denote something being on his. "Looking a bit purple."

"I'm alright now, thanks; and so do you," he replied, pointing at her chin. "Let's go to the med-bay and wipe this stuff off together. It looks as though it's going to be tricky."

"If I end up looking like Violet the berry kid out of Willy Wonka, I swear I am not stepping foot outside the TARDIS until it has all worn off," she warned as he led her to sit on a chair by a sink.

"I'm sure it won't come to that. Now lift your head up so that I can do this." Immediately, he tilted her face upwards and gently swiped her skin with a wet ball of cotton wool dipped in a substance from a labelled bottle. "It's starting to come off," he soothed as he continued to dab with other pieces.

It didn't feel too bad to be fussed over like this, so she let him continue to do it. "What about the gunk on your face?" she asked in concern. "Is there enough in the bottle to do you too?"

"Plenty," he answered, grinning in amusement. "But I can do it myself."

"No, you're not," she insisted. "We're a team, remember."

"All for one and one for all?" he teased.

"Only if you want to be a musketeer," she replied, "and I don't think you have the face for one of those goatee beards."

Nevertheless, he thought she gained too much joy in forcing him to sit down and washing his face for him with the same substance.

"I'm not a kid!" he protested at one point, grimacing as he was accosted with more water.

"I think you are," she countered, chucking away her last cotton wool pad. "One big outer space kid. All done now. Drowned rat isn't such a bad look on you." _All sort of cute and snoggable_ , she was horrid to think.

He blinked up at her and found her staring oddly back at him. She smelt odd too. Nice though. "Are you alright?"

"Don't know about you, but I'm feeling a bit hot," Donna commented, waving a hand in front of her face. "Really hot."

"It is warm in here," the Doctor agreed. "Why don't you go change your outfit into something cooler and then we'll decide where we're going next," he suggested. "I'll meet you back by the console when you're ready."

"Alright. See you in a mo."

*~ /_\ ~*

Having dismissed her from the med-bay, he set off towards the console room. Once there, he took his jacket off to consider doing a bit of last-minute tinkering before they left. Knowing Donna, she would take her time choosing an outfit to match where she wanted to go.

"Surprisingly warm," he muttered to himself as he removed his tie and tackled the buttons of his shirt. "Donna was right. This is unusual."

A frown crossed his face as he assessed his bodily statistics. Not how he wanted to react in the slightest. With any luck, a quick poke around some wiring below the decking would distract him from the elevated level of certain hormones in his body until it all wore off.

Half an hour or so later, now suitably washed and refreshed, Donna re-entered the console room in a completely different type of attire from her normal choice. It was warm enough to remind her of a holiday in the Med, she thought as her gaze sought out the Doctor. She was shocked to see him without his usual jacket or shirt, but actually exposing the t-shirt he generally wore as a vest underneath it all. _Must be really feeling the heat_ , she reasoned.

The Doctor gulped as he glanced up from his lowly position under the metal decking. Normally Donna went to great lengths to cover her body up in as many acres of clothing layers as possible. Apart from the cleavage exposure on her wedding day, he had never seen her chest uncovered, let alone her legs or arms. The most revealing outfit she had worn on one of their adventures had been in Pompeii or 1926; if you ignored the fluffy long bathrobe they'd given her on Midnight, and he was in a good mind to forget or ignore a lot of aspects about that fateful trip.

Anyway. Not only was Donna now exposing part of her chest as well as baring her arms, she was also showing off her legs thanks to the flattering low-cut mini sundress she wore. He knew she had legs, obviously, because her jeans contained something that manoeuvred her about, but he hadn't ever expected to actually see them in the flesh, as it were. And they were certainly all flesh, bone, and pale freckled skin that went seemingly all the way up to her armpits.

His eyes followed the legs upwards, and then got side-tracked by a couple of other items. Like her hair. It hung down loose and glossy passed her shoulders, like a beautiful ginger curtain. And her bottom was pertly pushed forward thanks to a pair of stiletto shoes on her feet. The sight certainly brought him clambering out of his cubbyhole to get a better look from all possible angles.

"What do you think?" she challenged him. Before his mouth had gained the sense to do more than try to form the words on his lips, she carried on talking. "I was thinking, we could go somewhere and have a bit of a dance. Go clubbing on Planet Ibiza." She swayed her hips in a tuneless dance in time to her words in order to persuade him, and then looked at him expectantly.

He only realised at that point, after he'd gawped for a bit, that he was expected to give an answer. "Clubbing?" he faintly pondered.

"You know. Some wine, a warm Mediterranean evening, some Euro disco beats," she suggested.

At that precise moment the TARDIS began to pump out some familiar holiday music.

Donna's face lit up in delight. "Yes, just like that. Thank you, darling!"

"I didn't do anything," he joked, and gained the playful scowl he'd been hoping for.

As if to punish him, the TARDIS then lowered the lights in the console room and burst out some strobe lighting effects usually found in Ibiza discos; moving the patterns in synch with the dance music still playing.

"Now that's more like it," Donna gasped out in joy, and swivelled her body to dance along.

It took all the Doctor's efforts to wrench his gaze from the fascinating sight of her swaying hips. The fact they were getting suddenly nearer proved to be the contributing factor. "Yes?"

"Is that a 'yes' to dancing with me, Spaceman?" she wondered.

"Might be," he cautiously admitted as he watched her place her arms on his shoulders to draw him near. His own arms were already wrapping themselves around her waist, using the action to smooth his hands over her lower back.

"Then dance," she whispered directly into his ear, and encouraged his movements with nudges from her hips.

BA-BA-BUB-BUB-BAM! BA-BABUB-BUB-BAM! The beat repeated with a techno twist, enticing their hearts to follow suit as they moved together.

There had never been anything like this before in his life. The thrill of it urged him on to consider previously forbidden fruit. It wasn't just the rhythmic sway of her hips, but the small pelvic thrusts that bounced against him. If he hadn't been aroused already, he certainly was now; evidently so, judging by the smirk on Donna's face.

"Is that a sonic screwdriver in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?" she teased.

 _Okay, she obviously doesn't mind_ , he logically reasoned, since he was still wearing the side of his face and it hadn't been knocked into next week. "I'm always pleased to see you," he replied, and then wondered why she had instantly laughed. Alright, maybe he could have worded it better, but it remained true nevertheless.

"Flatterer," she chided.

Wanting to prolong their dance, he squeezed her body closer and used the action to purr into her ear, "It's the truth. Always."

She seemed to be in two minds about believing him for a second, and then she gently kissed him on the cheek, catching the edge of his mouth. "Flirt," she murmured.

"Goddess," he responded in kind, and then returned the kiss; right on her lips. It was the first kiss he had initiated as himself in an awfully long time, and he practically melted into the experience.

She sighed. "We should stop this before it goes too far."

"Yes it's breast that we do." _Oops!_

Ignoring his slip of the tongue, and his burgeoning arousal, she broke away from him to announce, "I'm thirsty. What about you? I could do with a drink of water."

"A little bit," he faintly agreed, and readily followed her to the kitchen, letting her lead the way with a guiding hand.

She took them over to the kitchen sink and turned the tap on. "Here you go," she said as she handed over a cool glass of water to him; and sipped her own. "Just what the doctor ordered."

In answer, he drained his glass in one go, and wiped the residue off his mouth. "Definitely," he hoarsely decided.

The action had drawn attention to his mouth, and she floundered for a second or two. Were those dark eyes of his really urging her to kiss him again? The thought alone made her draw in a breath, that caused her chest to thrust outwards. His eyes dipped to watch the rise and fall, making her acutely aware of his interest in her cleavage. Okay, he had looked before, she knew that; but this time she wanted him to. And that wasn't the only thing she yearned for him to do in that second.

"Doctor," she purred.

"Hmm?" His puzzled gaze rose back to her face. "That dress is absolutely lovely on you. Did I say that earlier? Because I should have done. It makes me want to…" His words faded guiltily away but his attention stayed on her eyes.

"To do what?" she encouraged him in sultry tones, pressing a little bit nearer. "Why don't you show me."

Now given permission, he brought his thrashing hands up to cradle her jaw in tender care; and he kissed her. This time the kiss didn't stay remotely chaste but grew incrementally in passion when she opened up to his questing lips.

Fire raged within him, begging for release at the hands of the woman in his arms. Groaning into another passionate kiss, he pushed her backwards and up against the larder cupboard door. No words were needed between them as hands sought out bare skin to caress. Without breaking lip contact, he smoothed a path up her thigh and beneath her dress, pulling the material upwards. In equal eagerness, she grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and then tugged it off at the same time her dress was removed.

Before her was a fine chest with a smattering of dark hair across it that just yearned to be touched by her inquisitive fingers. "Nice chest. I see you've set up camp," she commented, glancing meaningfully at his trousers.

Distracted from commenting on the qualities of her chest, he looked down to see his trouser material tenting to almost breaking point. "I seem to have a bit of a problem," he admitted. Part of him waited for the slap in response. The part of him that was mainly his left cheek.

But to his delight and astonishment she near purred, "You know you should always bring your problems to me. I can deal with most things."

In light of that, he risked easing forward to ask, "May I use your expert knowledge since I hear you have excellent womanly wiles?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she whispered, pulling him nearer by placing her hands on his shoulders.

"It was only a matter of time before I succumbed," he confessed in silky tones. "I couldn't resist you forever, even though I have tried often enough."

"Aren't you the dark horse."

An unmanly delighted giggle burst from his lips. Donna Noble was comparing him to a horse for all the right reasons, the sexy minx. "Feel welcome to ride me," he offered directly into her ear as he wrapped himself around her body, unable to fight the action any longer. "Oh Donna. The things you make me want to do. I am so glad I told you to save your wiles for later."

"Are you saying this is an emergency?" she saucily wondered as his lips ghosted over her skin.

"It is for me. If I don't taste you soon, I am liable to die."

"Then you'd better do that," she suggested, right before his mouth eased onto hers in a searing kiss.

Then they went back to exchanging deep kisses, rubbing their bared torsos together as their arousal spiralled ever upwards. It felt wonderful when he lifted her leg to gain better access to hump exactly where they'd both like him to be. They moved together for some minutes, happily groaning a shared language of encouragement and appreciation. But the delicious hardness below her was not compensation for the one pressed against her back.

"Up against a cupboard door isn't very comfortable," Donna murmured against his lips.

"Hang on and I'll move us," the Doctor offered, and bodily lifted her to swivel them sideways. "The table. That will do," he grunted.

Before she had the chance to protest, she was on her back lying on the wooden table top, watching him throw off any offending items that might get in their way, like placemats and condiments, before climbing on top of her body to resume their deep kisses.

Using the sides of her feet, Donna managed to edge down the waist of his trousers. "Do you want to take it off?"

He grinned devilishly. "It's more fun removing clothing gradually, don't you think? Dead sexy, as you'd say. But I'll take your shoes off for you."

Leaning back, he lifted her leg and slowly took one shoe off, carefully kissed her foot and then trailed kisses down her leg before doing the same to the other foot. "So sexy," he murmured, "just like every other part of you."

With a sensual touch, his fingertips smoothed along the edge of her underwear, so she placed a hand on the back of his head, and pulled him towards her mouth to kiss him deeply, sliding her tongue over his as her other hand delved below.

"Oh yes," he happily groaned for a few seconds. And then changed his tone slightly when she dragged him nearer. "Are you sure?" he asked in fear and longing.

"Very," she assured him.

"Beautiful," he gasped a she clung to him. "Oh my love. May I?" he tentatively requested a short while later; and lifted up a hand to place it on her temple.

At once, he could feel her mind; her thoughts, her sensations. "Oh Donna," he sighed. It was the beginning of his mantra.

Below him, she gained a sense of the world as he saw it, and the wonder of this specific encounter. Not just a sexual opportunity, fuelled by alien means, but a meeting of kindred souls, joined by mutual love and respect. It was both surreal and earthshattering as they moved together.

For a moment she saw stars, and she was convinced he did too, as the universe squeezed them together into a delicious explosion.

Still panting from the effort, he noted, "Perhaps we should have undressed completely after all."

She laughed as she lifted her head and saw the mess they had made. Clothing and items were scattered in all directions. "Perhaps," she agreed. "I'd better go and wash."

"You're erm… to…. Erm…You're welcome to use the facilities in my room, since it is nearer," he hesitantly offered. "Stay as long as you like, even the whole night, if you want."

How could she resist his unspoken plea? "That would be lovely, thank you," she answered, giving him a pleased grin of her own.

He certainly looked like the cat that had got the cream in that moment, and she was loath to break his good mood. Taking his hand had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do, and the smile on his face warmed her heart like nothing else ever had.

*~ /_\ ~*

The Doctor opened his eyes, turned in his bed, and immediately exclaimed, "OH!" He then brought his knees up protectively whilst grasping the top edge of the bedsheet up to his face; his startled eyes staring out over the crisp white cotton at her in suppressed horror.

"Whassamatta?" Donna sleepily wondered, and then spotted him beside her. She instantly shot up to sit ramrod in the bed. Her wide eyes glanced around the room, trying to take in every detail, but one important fact kept rearing up in her brain as she gripped the bedcovers closer to hide her exposed body. "What the…!" She gave a muffled shriek before lowering her hand to state, "This isn't my room, and I'm naked. Doctor, I'm in your bed with you, naked."

"I know." He then felt her glaring at him, so he risked lowering the bedsheet slightly. "If it helps, I'm naked too."

"Funnily enough, no," she grouched. "Makes it harder… I mean more difficult," she verbally stumbled, and flushed a deep crimson. _Trust her to notice where part of the sheet could be tented right where his lap would be_. "God, this is so shaming," she muttered, lowering her head so that her hair acted as a curtain to cut her off from his gaze. "What must you think."

 _Damage control, this needed damage control_ , he instantly urged himself. "I am so sorry for what occurred last night, Donna. I would never have done anything like this if we hadn't been affected by paillmochyn."

Her head jerked up in confusion. "And what's that when it's at home?" she wondered.

Cautiously gulping first, he supplied, "Sex pollen."

"Sex pollen!" she repeated in disgust, and then shrugged. _Just her luck_. Of course it was sex pollen. Hadn't she half expected something like this would happen? "It would seem I've finally encountered sex pollen. Well well well."

"Yes," he agreed, and then paused. "You wanted to meet sex pollen?"

"I'm not saying that. Merely that it was inevitable," she defended. "I mean, you read about such things happening."

"Where?"

"Where what?"

"Where do you read about such things happening?" he clarified.

"Oh, you know, in stuff. Science fiction stories. That type of thing," she airily replied.

"I think you've been reading the wrong type of fiction, love," he commented without thinking. "All probably good stories and highly entertaining," he quickly amended when her expression fell.

"Probably quite a few fantasies thrown in there, too," she allowed. "It was a fanfiction type magazine."

"Ah! There you go then," he crowed, feeling vindicated. "Aliens aren't as hungry to watch humans having sex as you might think from reading that sort of thing, or eager to witness cross-species intimate… erm… thingamajigs," he blustered, waving his hand about in some bizarre demonstration, and now blushing too.

"Do you regret it?" she softly asked.

 _Only if you do_. "Yes. No. It was unexpected," he answered warily.

"You're allowed to say it was awful, you know," she offered. "It must have been a huge shock for you to have sex with someone like me."

"What do you mean 'someone like you'?" he countered.

"Well. I'm human and not Time Lord, for a start. I'm just a temp from Chiswick. Not beautiful, young, intelligent or special," she listed, "so this must be a complete nightmare waking up like this with me in your bed."

"I don't think that about you. What about how bad it is for you, waking up with a long streak of alien nothing?" he argued. "Did you get many papercuts from hugging me?"

"Oh," she sadly gasped, remembering those comments. "I did say all that, didn't I. Sorry. It was said so that you and Martha wouldn't think I was after you."

"You didn't want any of that nonsense either," he remembered. How could he forget? It'd rather hurt his feelings at the time. And since. "I've rather broken that promise to avoid it. Sorry. So sorry."

"Never mind. You're not to blame." She gave a self-deprecating shrug. "Well, as much to blame as I am. And that's not very much."

"An unfortunate side effect of that purple powder we were assaulted with," he reasoned.

She tried to smile. "There's no way we would have ended up like this unless we hadn't been drugged."

 _I beg to differ_. "If you say so," he reluctantly agreed.

"Are you suggesting we would have?" she queried. And considered that thought for a moment. _There'd always been something between us._ "I suppose you could say that, although I'm not totally convinced. But…. Oh my god. When I woke up just now, I thought I'd had a vivid dream. One of those exotic dreams."

"Don't you mean 'erotic'?" he corrected.

"Same thing as far as I'm concerned."

His grin came out in full force. "Does that also mean that you consider any encounter with me as being exotic? I never knew you saw me like that."

"I see you as an alien. Nothing else," she countered. "And I was referring to sex being something unusual."

"That also covers me."

"Unlike your clothing."

"But definitely like you were last night. All over me. Rode me like a cowboy," he boasted.

"Had many of them, have you?" she teased. "I thought as much."

 _Don't make a jokey remark about her previous sexual partners. Just don't_ , he warned himself. "I just remember you making a comparison between me and a horse, at one point," he nonchalantly remarked.

She immediately spluttered into laughter, so he allowed himself to relax back against his pillow. "Horse," she playfully repeated, and shifted to lie down beside him. "In your dreams, mate."

"Or in yours," he retorted, and then realised he might have gone too far when she blushed a deep red. "Still. We're here now. In bed. Naked. What did you want to do next?"

"I can easily guess what your suggestion might be," she murmured, and looked meaningfully at his lap. "That's if the usual has happened. Usual for men, I mean."

He merely shrugged. If she'd been that worried about it, she would have escaped from his bed long before now. "Well, you can't expect me to react like a dead fish when there's a desirable woman in my bed." To his annoyance, she lifted up the bedcover and peeped under it, so he deliberately placed his hand over hers. "No, I am not pretending I'm talking about someone else in here. The sexy desirable woman is you, Donna Noble."

"He's using my full name," she noted to herself. "Out with it. What have I done wrong?"

"It's my turn to say: 'the usual'. Shall I let you into a little secret?"

"Go on then."

Leaning close, he whispered into her ear, "That sex pollen only works if you wanted it to."

"You're just saying that," she denied.

"Perhaps I am, but I have my answer, and so do you."

"Meh!" She scrunched her nose up in an attempt to dismiss him. "Not bad as theories go. But you must admit; last night; it was rather nice."

Mental images of her body suddenly filled his mind. Her gasps and his grunts had filled the air as they'd moved willingly together. It had been rather spectacular at the time; 'nice' was an understatement. 'Nice' was how he felt in that moment, lying next to her in his warm bed, feeling her naked skin pressed against his own, and his burgeoning interest in the downstairs department prayed that she might be keen to repeat it all if he played his cards right.

He cautiously nodded. "It was. Very."

"And if we decided to go back and get a bottle of that purple pixie dust stuff, you know, just in case we wanted to experiment, that wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it?" she sought to confirm.

He grinned widely and reached out to embrace her. "Not at all," he crooned into the crook of her neck. "But seeing as I have a beautiful, young, nubile, ginger goddess here in my bed beside me, perhaps you'll allow me to try out some magic of my own."

She pretended to look at a watch on her wrist. "Go on then. I've got a spare five minutes."

"For you, Donna Noble, I shall give you the full experience." And then crushed her body under his own as she squealed with delight.

"Erm… Donna. While I think to mention it, did you know you were ovulating last night?"

"No," she faintly replied from beneath his mouth. _Another chance to be a mother gone_. "Then again, it won't matter because crossbreeds don't happen."

"Ah. About that," he began to apologetically explain. "There was once a human Time Lord hybrid born, so it's not impossible or against the law, as you once speculated."

She stopped what they were doing to gawp at him. "What, I can get pregnant by you?"

"Yes. Possibly. Maybe," he confessed. "Although the good news is that, if conceived within the TARDIS, the child would not only be fully Gallifreyan, they'd probably be a Time Lord."

"Doctor!" she shrieked, and then thumped him. Hard.

*~ /_\ ~*


	2. The Consequences

**N/A:** also written for **hc_bingo** round 9

* * *

 **Sweet & Sour Consequences**

.

She anxiously stood on her mother's doorstep, awaiting judgement of the doomed kind. How would she react to the news: her daughter and the Doctor were a couple? Well. Sort of. In all probability. Donna glanced at him and saw him grimace back. Yes, this was going to be tricky to explain.

Suddenly the door opened, and Wilf exclaimed in joy, "Donna! And you've brought his lordship! Come on in. The pair of you. Your mum's out the back, pegging out washing. Always cleaning. She'd buff me up with a cloth if she got half a chance."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Donna replied as they walked in and followed, after a brief but intense hug.

*~/_\~*

Sylvia eyed the young man sitting next to her daughter with caution. What were his true intentions in being there, sat at her dining table? She had long tried to fathom it out. But at least he seemed to enjoy his food, despite the lack of meat on his bones. "How's your dinner, Doctor?"

He immediately nodded enthusiastically. "It's lovely, thank you, Mrs Noble."

"I've told you before. Call me 'Sylvia', now that you're Donna's boyfriend."

Donna sighed in exasperation. Trust her mother to make such an assumption when they hadn't even decided what their relationship status was yet. "Mum, we aren't like that."

"Oh, whatever it is. Does anyone really know?" Sylvia grumbled. Apparently, it was a long-voiced confusion judging by Wilf's expression, so she turned her attention back onto Donna who was looking a bit green around the gills. "What? What is it? You don't look well at all. Are you feeling alright?"

"No," Donna answered honestly, and dropped all pretence of trying to eat her meal. "I think I'm... Excuse me."

"Donna!" the Doctor cried out as she rushed away from the table, through the door to the hallway. "Won't be a minute," he aimed at a gawping Wilf and Sylvia.

"What the…!" Sylvia began to exclaim, but he ignored their reactions. Instead, all he could think of was getting to Donna.

He ran up the stairs, two steps at a time. The sound of retching guided him to the bathroom, where Donna was hunched over the toilet pan.

"Oh my god. Donna. Are you alright?"

"No," she forlornly wailed.

"It'll all be over in a moment," he appeased her with a comfort rub on the back. "Let it all out."

She finished throwing up, and then glumly washed her face, before rinsing her mouth out. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked from her position leaning against the sink.

"Depends," he hedged as she slowly turned to face him. "Is this the first time you've thrown up like this lately?"

"No," she unhappily confessed. "It happened earlier."

Taking command, he drew out his sonic screwdriver from his jacket pocket. "Time to find out for definite then."

The blue light came on, and he waved the sonic a few times across her torso.

"Well?" she anxiously asked when he peered closely at the device. He'd even donned the sexy specs to do so. Serious stuff then. "Am I or aren't I?"

After drawing in a breath or two, he gasped, "You are officially pregnant, missus."

"Oh." She paced back and forth a couple of steps in the small space of the bathroom. "Oh no. I'm pregnant. I am pregnant," she hissed. "What am I going to do? I'm so sorry. Mum will kill me, and you must think I'm ridiculous."

Catching hold of one of her flailing hands, he halted her motions. "I don't understand why you are upset. We discussed the possibility of this happening, when we... The other night. And we weren't cautious yesterday, or this morning. You know," he airily noted, bobbing his head.

"That was then, and this is now. Facing the consequences. It's real; not some idle pipe dream. I found out the other night that getting pregnant was a possibility after thinking it'd never happen. But now, I actually am. It's going to mean growing bigger, fatter and giving birth. Oh my god, all that pain!"

"You're hyperventilating," he cautioned. "Deep slow breaths. That's it. With me. Calm slowly down. Nice and deep," he comforted, rubbing her shoulders in time to help.

Blowing out a breath, she couldn't help asking, "Why aren't you freaking out? This is suddenly dad-hood, after all."

"Me? Well. At the moment you're panicking for the pair of us, so I've got to stay calm. But..." He gave a watery smile. "I'm going to be a dad," he whispered in awe. "To a real Time Tot."

She nodded along to his words. "You won't be the last one anymore. There's no need to be alone."

"Oh Donna," he gasped on a sob. "My precious love. You are brilliant. Only you could have transformed my life so. Twice now."

"This time will be better," she promised, hugging him tight. "I'll make sure of that."

"I believe you would." He kissed her in gratitude then. Then the kiss grew more tender as they moved together. "Stay with me, please," he softly begged.

"That was the plan already, daft Martian," she replied. "And I'm not forcing you to marry me just because of the baby. I want you to know that."

"I know. Doesn't mean I'll hold you to it," he warned. "The sound of you as my fiancée has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Shall I tell you what I think?" she offered. "And I know you won't want to hear this, let alone reply, but I'm going to say it anyway because you should know. Not for ego reasons or anything like that but for having no secrets sake. I love you."

"Donna," he murmured in shock.

"Yeah, I know. It complicates things," she acknowledged, shrugging dismissively. "But friends love each other, right?"

"They do," he agreed, pulling her into another long searing kiss. "They really do."

Outside on the landing, Wilf gestured down to Sylvia, who was waiting on the bottom step of the stairs; to denote the love declarations going on in their bathroom after the pregnancy announcement.

Sylvia clasped a hand over her mouth to stop a joyous yell escape. Her Donna, _finally_ , was going to have a baby. Her grandchild. Even if it was with **_that_** man, the man she'd suspected was seducing her daughter. There was going to be a silver lining.

As she stood there, Sylvia silently planned for the happy future event.


End file.
